


Solace

by Hildigunnur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-19
Updated: 2005-10-19
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hildigunnur/pseuds/Hildigunnur
Summary: Harry feels like he hasn't anything good to give. Ron's caring persuades him otherwise.





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015.
> 
> Written for sarka in 2004 or 2005.

There was something about the Burrow that made it seem like there was always sunshine filtering through the windows. When he was younger, Harry had never taken any heed to this but now, the sunshine made him feel more alien than he had ever felt there. He supposed that the sunshine was some kind of a mark of the Weasleys’ joy of living. Even if they certainly had their troubles, there would be someone who would crack a joke in the end and make everyone laugh. 

While Harry did appreciate this in his heart and knew that this was one of the reasons why he loved the Weasleys so fiercely, he somehow felt distant from them. He sat at the big kitchen table, watching Ginny and Ron squabble over who should eat the last slice of lemon tart and listening to Mr Weasley telling his wife and oldest son about something that had happened at work. 

He felt like he was sitting behind some kind of window, like watching an aquarium. Completely disengaged. 

“Harry? Harry! Have you gone deaf, mate?” Ron was poking him in the shoulder. He shook his head and looked at Ron who was watching him with concerned curiosity.

“I was wondering if we should go up to my room, you can unpack and … yeah.” 

Still lost in his thoughts, Harry followed Ron upstairs. His trunk was standing up on one end to fit into Ron’s small room. 

“Um, I’d offer you the twins’ room but I think they are using it as some kind of an extra storage. Mum threatened to throw it out but when they offered to pay rent, she calmed down a bit.”

Ron was looking nervously at the camp bed that had been put out for him. Harry gave his friend a vague sort of a happy smile and sat down on it. That seemed to be enough for Ron and he threw himself on his own bed. 

“Bill is staying in … Percy’s room, though he’s never around … you know, working for the Order, working at Gringotts and all. I suppose we would have had more room if we were staying in Grimmauld Place but …” Ron trailed off but Harry knew what was unsaid. One of the reasons why they were not staying at Grimmauld Place was because of him. His train of thought ended there. He could never continue it, at least not in front of Ron. Or anyone for that matter. It just pushed him closer to the brink of losing it again and it wasn’t like there was anyone there he could blame or pretend to blame. Except himself. 

He must have sat there for some time thinking since Ron said tentatively:

“Harry?”

“’M okay.” Harry’s voice was much thicker and strained than he liked. Ron was leaning on his elbow, looking at him worriedly. Harry knew that a flood of questions would have followed if it had been Hermione looking at him. In a way it seemed contradictory that someone like Ron who wore his heart on his sleeve, whether he realised that or not, knew not to press him while Hermione, who guarded herself, always pressed. 

With the full intention to let Ron know that he wasn’t ready to talk yet, Harry looked up and felt something burn in the corners of his eyes. 

He wasn’t breaking down in front of Ron, not now. But it seemed those few weeks of isolation with the Dursleys and knowing that they wouldn’t care in the least, had broken down his barriers. 

Without thinking, he turned away so Ron wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. The gesture didn’t conceal them from Ron who had sat up on his bed.

“Harry? Mate … I can leave you alone if you want.” He started rising to his feet and for a fleeting moment Harry considered whether he wanted to be left alone but somehow that thought made his throat constrict.

“No!” He said in a croaky voice, his hand flying up almost as if to grab Ron’s sleeve. Ron sat back down on his bed in slow-motion, carefully regarding Harry.

He swallowed. His first reaction was just to throw himself down on the camp bed and howl all his misery out. Have Ron pat him awkwardly because he cared. 

… _because he cared_. The pang of the realisation hit him like a thunderbolt and his self-restraint slowly drained away. The tears started to run freely down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them away with the back of his hand.

“Hey, let me get you a handkerchief.” Before he could answer him, Ron handed him a handkerchief from his nightstand. “Don’t worry. It’s clean.” 

He wanted to retort that he wasn’t worried about that but found that he couldn’t speak at all. The tears kept streaming down and he started to sob, much to his embarrassment. Still Ron didn’t seem to think anything of it, only kept regarding him in a concerned way. Harry didn’t know how to thank him other than to grab Ron’s hand.

The touch was electrifying. He almost jerked his hand back. The look in Ron’s eyes had changed from concern to confusion. Harry swallowed and saw clearly that Ron did the same. 

“Harry?”

“Yes?” He had found his voice back but it was still thick and croaky. The handkerchief was still in his hand, the one that wasn’t grabbing Ron. Neither of them knew what to say at that moment.

In a gesture he probably intended to relieve the tension, Ron took the handkerchief from Harry and brought it up to his face as if to wipe away the tears. Harry automatically let go of Ron’s hand. Carefully Ron removed Harry’s glasses and started to wipe his cheeks. Not in the way a mother would wipe her child but oh

so slowly and softly, barely touching Harry’s skin.

They looked into each other’s eyes. Ron’s pupils were dilated, the blue iris making a small, neat rim around them. His lips were slightly parted. Harry felt his instincts telling him to do something that had never occurred to him before.

Kiss Ron. 

And somehow it made sense that Ron wouldn’t mind. 

He grabbed Ron’s wrist and pushed his hand from his face, then leaned in and deftly touched his lips with his. Ron made the smallest of jerks as in shock but was quick to move his lips against Harry’s. 

A wave of relief washed over Harry. He hadn’t believed that Ron would push him away but he wasn’t entirely sure. The relief lighted something in the pit of his stomach. Ron was his. His Ron. He wanted to claim him whole. With the hand that wasn’t holding Ron’s wrist, he grabbed the back of Ron’s head and deepened their kiss. Ron didn’t seem to mind this surge of Harry’s possessiveness. He was also trying to claim his share of Harry, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair. Pulling him closer. 

Harry very much longed to be as close as possible to Ron but they were moving in the wrong direction. Not the camp bed. He wanted Ron on his bed. On the bloody awful orange Chudley Cannons bedspread. So he pushed Ron backwards with his whole body. Ron landed on his back, not breaking any contact. Harry manoeuvred so he was straddling Ron, bending over him and kissing him hard. There were muffled moans coming from Ron that made Harry tighten his fingers in Ron’s hair, almost to a fist, and pull it. 

Harry had let Ron’s wrist go so Ron had used the chance to move his hand to Harry’s waist. Impatiently he began to pull up Harry’s t-shirt. His touch was rousing, sending tingles down Harry’s spine. 

He felt his erection straining against his jeans and from his position, he felt a similar bulge beneath Ron's belt.

The urge to grind down was strong but something was holding him back. He wanted to drive Ron to do it. With his fingers still entwined in Ron’s hair, he pulled his head back so Ron’s long neck was exposed to his kisses. Ron’s moans were no longer muffled and they compelled Harry to do more. To trace down Ron’s torso with his left hand, hike up the hem of Ron’s t-shirt and feel the smooth skin of Ron’s abdomen. 

His fingers skimmed over the trail of hair that led from Ron’s navel down under the waist of his trousers. They felt their way up, sliding over his ribs and grazing over Ron’s nipples. That proved to be the trick. With a loud gasp, Ron ground his hips up to meet Harry’s who didn’t delay in grinding his down. The accompanying shudder from Ron had Harry grinding down again and again. The friction was oh so gratifying. A moan echoed in Harry’s ears that certainly wasn’t coming from Ron. 

He bent again over Ron to claim his lips, pushing Ron’s hand off his body and pulling them over Ron’s head, pinning him down. Increasing the tempo, he ground down hard on Ron who answered in a jerky rhythm. They were both so close.

Harry broke their kiss, moving his mouth along Ron’s jaw line to his ear.

“You are mine and I’m yours.” 

Ron responded by arching his back up so high that Harry almost fell off. They were both coming hard, their gasps mingling. Harry felt his eyes roll back in his head while Ron was still quivering under him. 

 

Gradually his muscles relaxed and under him, Ron was slowly sinking back down. Lying there, Harry felt Ron’s breath and heartbeat easing. A warm feeling mixed in with the satisfying lethargy in his body. He didn’t only bring heartache and pain to people. There was something good he was able to give.

His limbs felt heavy but still he managed to envelop his best friend into a hug. As he touched Ron’s cheek with his, he felt Ron’s arms around him.

Neither of them worded the obvious. How much they loved each other. 

_fin_


End file.
